


Don't Fight It (Just Keep Breathing)

by Woulddieforbrunnhilde



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Cameos, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, M/M, Natasha Romanov Is Not A Robot, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Post-HYDRA Reveal, Relationship Negotiation, Road Trips, Running Away, So Many Cameos, Superhero Registration Act, Timeline What Timeline, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:55:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22762828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Woulddieforbrunnhilde/pseuds/Woulddieforbrunnhilde
Summary: As she went through communications behind layers of firewalls, Nat learned that according to the official narrative, the last morning of her mark’s life went as follows.9:00: Pepper met with shareholders to avert whatever disaster Tony had tweeted at 3am the previous night10:15: Pepper went over the payroll, and fired the entire department complicit in understaffing and underpaying their Ohio factory workers11:00: Pepper ate a fruit salad during her break while a Helicarrier crashed into the Potomac11:30: Pepper died of blunt force trauma to the back of the skull after sleeper Hydra agent Natalia Alianovna Romanova was wakeworded during an unrelated mission. Romanova was killed in the aftermath of the Uprising by friendly fire.As official narratives go, this one was surprisingly close to the truth, even if Pepper had a tuna wrap for lunch and was also currently sedated in the back of the Hydra van Nat had stolen as she drove along the I-95 freeway.
Relationships: Bucky Barnes & Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers/Sam Wilson, Kamala Khan & Miles Morales, Kate Bishop & Kamala Khan, Pepper Potts/Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson
Comments: 3
Kudos: 23





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, so I rolled out the timelines nice and neat and then I knitted myself a scarf. The Battle of New York never happened. Nat became Pepper's assistant during Winter Soldier, and Sharon took her place in the barbershop quartet. Project Insight succeeded and was used to stage a separate terrorist attack at the same time. Kamala, Miles, and Kate live in Seattle for Reasons. The Super Human Registration Act came out during Iron Man 1. Nat mostly has her comics backstory, except the mob stuff which will be explained later. YES, I KNOW THE OFFICIAL LANGUAGE OF KARACHI IS URDU, BUT FOR FORMATTING REASONS, I HAD TO GO WITH PUNJABI!!! I'M JUST AS PISSED ABOUT IT AS YOU ARE, SO DON'T SCREAM AT ME IN THE COMMENTS!!! If you're reading this in an app, that means my work is stolen and is being profited off by a bunch of jerks. Please just use mobile.

As she went through communications behind layers of firewalls, Nat learned that according to the official narrative, the last morning of her mark’s life went as follows.

9:00: Pepper met with shareholders to avert whatever disaster Tony had tweeted at 3am the previous night

10:15: Pepper went over the payroll, and fired the entire department complicit in understaffing and underpaying their Ohio factory workers

11:00: Pepper ate a fruit salad during her break while a Helicarrier crashed into the Potomac

11:30: Pepper died of blunt force trauma to the back of the skull after sleeper Hydra agent Natalia Alianovna Romanova was wakeworded during an unrelated mission. Romanova was killed in the aftermath of the Uprising by friendly fire.

As official narratives go, this one was surprisingly close to the truth, even if Pepper had a tuna wrap for lunch and was also currently sedated in the back of the Hydra van Nat had stolen as she drove along the I-95 freeway.

Nat would rather have kept her conscious, but unfortunately, due to Pepper’s inquisitive nature, she likely would have objected if Nat demanded she leave a few drops of blood on her desk and follow her out of the city before an impending terrorist attack by the secret Nazi organization with the government in it’s pocket.

She fiddled with the bunny ears on the makeshift radio of paper clips, Pepper’s reading glasses and a few choice components from her wristwatch she taped to the dashboard picking up comms until the murmur of rapid-fire Russian rose in volume and she could make out what the enemy agents were getting at.

<солдат и капитан исчезли. Нет слов ни об их местонахождении, ни о статусе>

<отслеживать их!>

<попытки были безуспешными>

<Приведи их или покажи нам тела.>

<Да сэр.>

The Winter Soldier and Rogers were off the map. Fuck. Either Rogers was dead and the Asset went on the run or the Asset was still tailing him, Carter and Wilson, which didn’t bode well for his prey. She wondered if they’d changed his dropwords since the seventies. If he went after her, maybe she could keep him down long enough to get Pepper to an airport, if they hadn’t grounded the planes by then. 

She changed the wavelength over to Sitwell’s from the Triskelion.

<...Widow went down in Manhattan after some trigger-happy imbecile shot her in the lobby of Stark Tower. We’ve lost contact with Coulson, Hand, and Hill’s teams. They’re too loyal to the old world anyways, I want them crossed off if we can’t bring them in within 48 hours, with the exception of Fitz-Simmons, they’re more valuable alive than dead. Garrett and Ward called in twenty minutes ago, they’re in medbay after Deathlok malfunctioned and turned on them. The Academy has been secured and the cadets are on lockdown…>

Coulson was on that jet of his, which meant Fury was stowing away onboard. Hill was either in Berlin or Kyoto, Hand could be on Mars for all she knew. Garrett and Ward weren’t much of a surprise, they’d given her major fash vibes, but she’d thought they were loyal to SHIELD. Not that there was much difference between SHIELD and Hydra these days. She allowed herself a moment of teeth-grating bitter rage at herself for not seeing it sooner before taking a deep breath and going back to her maps. 

She’d stored the locations of half of her safehouses on an encrypted usb she kept in the heel compartment in her boot, but she’d only had time to print off three before she had to destroy the file. The one they’d be staying at tonight was in Seattle, and they had at least nine more hours behind the wheel before she could rest. 

There was a thud and quiet gasping from the van’s floor that announced Pepper’s arrival into the waking world. Nat watched as she drowsily picked herself back up onto the seat and buckled up, before meeting her eyes in the rear view mirror.

“I’m sorry Natalie, I think I nodded off. What were you saying?”

“You didn’t nod off. I injected you with dendrotoxin, shattered a penthouse window, then rappelled down, with you slung over my shoulder in a fireman’s carry as Hydra agents stormed your building. We are currently in a stolen vehicle driving through Colorado, and both of us are legally dead.”

Pepper squinted at her. “Have you been hanging out with Tony?”

“Mr. Stark is also legally dead, though he’s in the back of Clint’s car, and probably still out.”

“What time is it? I lost my watch somehow.”

“It is eleven pm, Mountain Time.”

“Shit. I missed my dinner with the Resnicks.”

“How about I give you ten minutes for full executive function to return. I have injectable painkillers if you have a headache.”

“I’m good, thanks.”

Pepper put her head in her hands, elbows on her knees, and Nat could almost hear the Windows startup noise as she slowly recovered.

“I’m impressed, Potts. Most people are significantly less composed after getting iced to the neck.”

“I can’t feel my teeth.”

“That should go away. You must have questions.”

“Yep. Uh, fireman’s carry? Rappelled down the tower?”

“The government officials that aren’t in Hydra’s pocket are dead. By morning, martial law will be in place. They’ll blame the terror attack on religious extremists.”

“What terror attack?”

“Multiple Helicarriers fired on Congress, a children’s hospital and the Washington Monument. Captain America brought one down, but we haven’t seen him since. Public channels are saying it was a hijacking by a foreign nation. It wasn’t. It was Hydra.”

“Who’s Hydra?”

“Nazi offshoot group that’s been embedded in multiple world governments for decades.”

Pepper sighed. “I’m gonna take a shot in the dark and guess that you aren’t just my assistant.”

“Ding ding ding! Former Soviet spy, did twelve years for SHIELD, and currently your best hope of survival.”

“Alright Natalie. Why do they want to kill me? What’s the plan?”

“Not you in particular, mostly just powerful people they see as a threat. We’re on our way to a safe house in Washington State to lay low until I can get a head count on my associates. The van’ll get us across any checkpoints we need until then.”

Pepper was silent for a moment, processing. 

“Where’s Tony? Is he ok?”

“He’s with my partner, Hawkeye. He’s gonna stay on his family farm with his wife and kids for a while.” 

“He’s not gonna be happy about that. I think he’s allergic to fresh air.”

“He’ll behave, if he knows what’s good for him.”

“He really doesn’t. Uh, what happened to the rest of the Avengers?”

“Bruce went underground and Thor’s offworld.”

“Are we gonna be ok?”

Nat wasn’t sure what to tell her. “Hope so.”

“That’s reassuring.”

“Would you rather I lied to you?”

“Maybe. What do I call you? I’m assuming Natalie Rushman isn’t your real name, right?”

“I’ve had a lot of them. You can call me whatever you’d like.”

“Whatever I’d like, huh?”

“How about Nat. Keep it simple.”

“Ok. How much longer are we gonna be driving?”

“You’re gonna want to settle in. There’s a change of clothes in the trunk, and we can stop in a few hours.”

“Gotcha. Can you turn on some music or something? This silence doesn’t feel great.”

“Certainly Ms. Potts.”

Nat connected her burner phone to the aux cord and scrolled through her list of nonthreatening playlists for all of her marks. 

“Thanks. Is there anything I can do?”

“Hop over the seat back and watch for tails.”

“Aye aye, Captain.”

-o-

They pulled up in front of a corner store in the city just as dawn broke and Pepper was about to nod off. She cracked her neck and stretched as she got out next to Nat and slammed the car door behind her.

“So, what are we doing with the van?”

“Someone’ll come take it to a chop shop in an hour or so. We’ll get a new one.”

“We’ll steal a new one?”

“Only if we have to. I have accounts we can use for whatever we need.”

“What do we do now?”

“I’ll order you clothing, but until it arrives, you can just borrow mine. The apartment is fully stocked, and has a telephone, though you are not to touch it without specific instructions to do so. We are going to enter the building through the store, just let me do the talking and we’ll be good. Got it?”

“Yep.”

“Your name is Virginia Woods, you’re my live-in girlfriend, we’ve been together for three and a half years, we met through work, which Mrs. Khan will understand is code for common mob activities.”

“There’s a mob in Seattle?”

“There are mobs everywhere. I just happen to run this one.”

“You run a mob?”

“Sh! Yes. Everyone needs a hobby. Let’s get inside. I don’t like being exposed like this.”

Nat put a hand on her lower back and not-so-gently pulled her onto the sidewalk.

“Ready?”

Pepper shrugged. “Sure.”

Nat pushed open the door to Khan’s Corner and held it wide for her. She stepped in, and looked around. It seemed to be a normal small business, very clean and well stocked. 

“Muneeba,” Nat called from behind her.

“Tanya,” the middle-aged hijabi cashier asked, craning to see behind her.

“Oh, Muneeba, it’s been forever,” Nat gushed, and swept past her to envelop the woman in a hug. 

Muneeba sighed and folded her arms.

“Ṭauma tuhāḍē dūrī nū usadē sira tē jāṇa didā hai. Uha sōcadā hai ki uha kisē vī cīja tōṁ baca sakadā hai, atē uha lōkāṁ nū paisē la'ī taga kara rihā hai. Maiṁ sōci'ā tusīṁ nahīṁ kītā?”

Pepper looked to Nat for some form of translation. Nat shook her head at her before jumping into conversation.

“Maiṁ usa nāla saudā karāṅgā. Kī usanē kisē nū dukhī kītā? Dhi'āna khicō?”

Muneeba shook her head. “Zi'ādātara sirapha ika parēśānī hōṇā. Bahuta sārē lōka usanū gabhīratā nāla nahīṁ laindē. Mainū citā hai ki uha kōśiśa karana atē satikāra prāpata karana la'ī kujha mūrakhatā karēgā.”

“That is a problem. I’ll set him straight. This is Virginia, she’ll be staying with me.”

Muneeba got a good look at Pepper for the first time. “Nice to meet you, I’m Muneeba, this is my building, my kids and husband are around here somewhere. The dishes need to be done, so they’ve all scattered.” She turned back to Nat. “Patalī'āṁ kadhāṁ hana, isa la'ī śōra nū hēṭhāṁ rakhō. Kirapā karakē ghaṭō ghaṭa pīḍī'ē karō. Kama karana vālē dōsata hamēśā dī tar'hāṁ dukāna tōṁ dūra rahidē hana atē mērē ḍrā'īvāla vica cagē baṇō. Kujī nū ghriṇā bāndara dē adhīna hai kamalā nē mainū baṇā'i'ā.”

There was a gasp from behind a far shelf. “You said you loved the monkey I made,” cried an indignant voice.

“Kamala! Found you! Go get Baba, and do the dishes!”

A teenage girl stomped out, groaning. “Oh, hey Tanya,” she said brightly, before remembering to scowl her way to the back room. 

“Hey, Kamala,” Nat called. “I can’t believe you fell for that.”

“Me either,” she sighed as she skulked out. 

Nat pointed Pepper to the elevator in the back. 

“Ninth floor, apartment 5b. I’ll be up in ten. The key’s in a ceramic monkey.”

Pepper nodded, and left Nat to her passionate discussion with the shopkeeper.

The elevator light flickered a few times, but she got to the room without incident. The key was under a truly hideous clay figurine, and unlocked the door after a few false starts. As she closed it behind her, she deadbolted it before slumping down with her back against the wood. 

The light switch was out of her reach, but the natural lighting illuminated a small living room with an ugly painting of some sort of twisted purple flower above a sun faded couch. It looked poisonous. 

The living room was carpeted with the kind of acrylic rug she hadn’t had since she got the gig with Stark Industries and the tiny kitchen, off to the left had vinyl countertops and an unfashionably white refrigerator. All of this was more familiar than anything in the last ten insane years had been, and she was glad for it.  
There were two doors to the right, which she supposed were the bathroom and bedroom, though she could see into neither.

The clothes Nat had given her were practical, comfortable and creepily well fitting for a t-shirt and jeans. The sneakers didn’t have a brand label, but vaguely resembled Converse. Her hair had drooped in the bun she used half a can of hairspray in the morning to maintain, so she started pulling pin after pin out and let it unravel. She had a decent sized pile before there was a neat three taps at the door and a quiet “Virginia,” from the honey sweet voice of her former assistant.

Pepper ran her hands through her hair before letting Nat in. The woman swept past her to the bookshelf next to the far window, and as she deadbolted the door again behind her, Nat grabbed a paperback copy of Grapes of Wrath, and started flipping through it.

“Doing some light reading?”

Nat looked up and blinked at her. “Yelena, my ...sister was here last—”

She pulled out a CVS receipt, and held it up to the light, before a small smile broke out.

“—She left me a message.”

She tucked the slip of paper into her bra, unfortunately drawing Pepper’s eyes down to her chest. Oops.

“Spies have sisters,” she asked, instead of something stupid.

“Everyone needs weak spots. Fear sharpens the senses.”

“Not only was that unnecessarily cryptic, it gave me no information that I asked for.”

“That was the point. Yelena and I were trained together. I broke her programming and helped her escape the Red Room.”

“Where’s she now?”

“Alive.”

“Hm. Can you drop the mask? It’s unsettling.”

“What mask?”

“That weird combination between my assistant and stone-cold, scary assassin. I feel like we’d both be more comfortable if you’d just be a person to me.”

“I can be more human if you want. That’s the mask though.” Nat’s eyes hardened. “I don’t feel things. I calculate. I am not a person. I was molded to be a weapon. It can be tiring to maintain the facade of humanity twenty-four seven, so I break it sometimes, around people I deem not to be a threat. I am not here to be your friend. I am here to keep both of us alive. Though if it is necessary, I can giggle on the couch with you as we binge The Good Place and eat popcorn dipped in Nutella, your favorite guilty pleasure. However, please keep in mind that I am not a roommate, or a particularly stoic guard. I am whatever personality suits my purpose and whoever I need to be. Understood?”

“Nobody knows about popcorn and Nutella. Hell, Tony still thinks I’m allergic to corn, somehow.”

“You still harbor resentment towards your high school bullies, and struggle to form close female friendships as a result of years of harassment. You’ve never befriended women for more than a year, before mutually ghosting each other.”

Pepper chuckled. “Well, you read me like a book with the high school bullies. You seriously misread my female friendships though. Who’d you talk to, my mother?”

“Yes. Why is that an important qualifier?”

“She’s seen every relationship with a woman I’ve ever had as platonic. I simply don’t have the energy to correct her.”

Something like confusion flashed over Nat’s face, before it smoothened out. 

“Ah.”

“Yeah. You were on the money with everything else. I’m sorry that you don’t feel human.”

“I don’t not feel human. I’m just not a person. I don’t have a soul. Hydra took that from me. Now. The bathroom’s in the room to the left, you can shower while I sweep the outer perimeter. I’ll be back in half an hour. Lock the door behind me, if anyone but me or Muneeba tries to get in, go for the closet in the bedroom.”

Nat turned and left the apartment, leaving Pepper blinking in confusion. She locked the door behind her though, and made a beeline for the shower. There was generic shampoo and conditioner, but the soap was some homemade, artisan type, and smelled like cinnamon.

As she toweled off and got back in her clothes, Nat returned with a paper bag of groceries in each arm from Khan’s Corner, and started unloading them into the cabinets. Nat tossed her a toothbrush and toothpaste as she walked up to help, and told her to go put them away. 

“There’s also a blow dryer under the sink for your hair!”

Pepper hadn’t known about that, thus her hair was still wet. Cosmopolitan would have a fit that she blow dried her hair every morning, probably causing heat damage or something, but she couldn’t be moved to care as the cheap, compact tool left her hair dry, flat and manageable.

When she got back out, Nat was putting a final can into a cupboard and dusting off her hands.

“Do you mind if I take a catnap on the sofa,” she asked, her face irritatingly blank.

The fatigue suddenly hit Pepper all at once.

“That’s a grand idea. I need my forty winks too.”

“Take the bedroom.”

“Is there only one bed?”

“Yes. Necessary for our cover.”

“Ah. Well, I gotta warn you, I’m a snuggler. I will end up with my arms around you.”

“That won’t be an issue. I sleep in front of the exit. That way nobody can enter the safe house without stepping over me.”

“Yeah, no. You aren’t sleeping on the floor. You can barricade the door if it makes you feel better, but either you’re sleeping on the couch or in the bed.”

Nat looked like she was going to argue, before visibly surrendering.

“I’ll take the bed. It’s most strategically sound. I can wake you up and get us both out the fire escape if necessary. But I’m napping on the couch.”

“Deal. I’ll be up at like…” Pepper glanced over at the oven timer. “...ten. We can talk long-term plans then.”

Nat nodded. 

“G’night, Bond.”

“G’night Bond Girl.”

Pepper snorted.

“What? This part of the movie is when they usually start ramping up the sexual tension between the titular character and the love interest with a connection to the antagonist, before she dies in an undignified fashion, motivating him to defeat the baddie and save England.”

“Not sure about my connection to the evil Nazi organization here, other than that I run my ex-boyfriend’s company, a major player in the weapons industry, which the said Nazi organization wants either destroyed or ...oh, I see it now. Huh. I really am the Bond Girl.”

“Hm. The bedroom window is bulletproof, and won’t unlock from the outside without a literal wrecking ball. You don’t have to worry about snipers. Or, you know, assassins breaking in to suffocate you with gold leaf. I’m going to take a shower myself. The light switch in the bedroom turns on the fan. There’s a cord on the bedside lamp you tug to turn on the light.”

“Got it.”

Nat nodded at her and entered the bathroom. Pepper pulled back her hair into a loose ponytail as she padded into the bedroom. The carpeting in there changed to a grey-blue, matching the solid indigo bedding and silver lamp that popped out against the off-white walls. There was a file on the nightstand, title and tabs in Cyrillic lettering. It was several centimeters thick, and as Pepper tucked herself in, she absently admired the color-coordination of the labels. 

Sleep descended upon her like an encounter with a rabid squirrel in Central Park, quick and violent. One minute she was just getting comfortable, the next she was gasping for breath and clawing at the air. 

Aliens aren’t streaming from the sky, metal men aren’t rising on a floating island, a giant purple man isn’t going to kill half of humanity.

Pepper slowly clawed her way back into reality, and saw that the sun had inched over to midmorning.

She heard something frying in the kitchen, before the loveliest smell in the world hit her nose and she held back from letting out an audible moan. 

She almost fell on her ass scurrying out of bed and flooring it to the living room. Nat sat cross legged on the counter, surrounded by stereos and cables, handling a tablet and typing commands into a laptop. More importantly, behind her, a rack of bacon sizzled mouthwateringly. 

“Pork” she whispered, tears nearly coming to her eyes. 

“Help yourself,” Nat offered, not looking up from whatever she was working on.

Pepper weaved around her little nest, and tried to pluck three pieces from the pan, before dropping them and sticking her fingers in her mouth.

“They’re hot,” Nat supplied unhelpfully.

“They’re hot,” Pepper mocked under her breath, before grabbing a spatula and scooping herself a plate. “What’re you doing?”

“Watching the American empire remake itself in real time. Congress was suspended an hour ago. President Ellis signed a series of executive orders practically rendering personal freedom and privacy terrorist institutions. Cops and soldiers are everywhere. White nationalists are parading in Chicago and Austin.”

“Like after 9/11.”

“Worse. Flights are grounded, visas are frozen and three Representatives are in Rikers. Religious garb and iconography are banned on public property. So much as glaring at law enforcement warrants a search and questioning if you’re lucky, and Rising Tide LA reports that the National Guard is raiding mosques and synagogues.”

“This is all because of that Hydra organization invaded the government?”

“Some of it. Hydra gave them a push in the right direction.”

“What happened with the terror attack?”

“Well, there was this program, a series of helicarriers carrying long-range targeted weaponry, with an algorithm to figure out who would commit acts of terror before they’d carry them out. Hydra sympathizer and head of the World Security Council, Alexander Pierce—”

“—I met him at a dinner party. He was so charismatic.”

“—that’s Pierce all right. Silver tongued son of a bitch. He approved the project and headed the program. He hired Turkish mercenaries to kill a few operators and fire on landmarks, incur as many human and cultural casualties as possible. Agent 13 put a bullet in his brain, but it was too late. Captain America went down with a helicarrier and Director Fury’s either dead or in hiding.”

“Are they looking for us?”

“Not for a while, at least. I faked our deaths pretty damn well.”

Pepper offered her the plate of bacon. “Want any?”

Nat took a piece, and held it with her teeth before entering a command into the tablet. “I made contact with the last SHIELD holdout. They’re sending a car to pick us up.”

“What time will it be here?”

“Eight, eight thirty-ish. In the meantime, I’m sending out feelers with Little League anarchist and anti fascist groups. We’re gonna need civilian support to stage a coup.”

“A coup, huh?”

“Well, unless you like perpetual martial law, human rights abuses and totalitarianism…”

“Got it. Let’s get revolutionary.”

“Can you operate Excel?”

“I’m the CEO of a Fortune 500 company!”

“Can you operate Excel?”

“Yes.”

“Ok, you see this—” Nat pointed at a sequence of numbers among rows and rows of digits. 

“Yeah.”

“Enter into here how many times it was repeated, and the row it appears in here.”

“Sounds easy enough. What is this doing?”

“Fuck if I know. It’s work that my hacker associates need done.”

“Ok. Gimme the tablet.”

-o-

Kamala was in study hall, chatting with Miles and Kate while doing homework when a student assistant gave Mr. Garcia an office note for them, labeled for all three to bring their backpacks and coats.

Miles looked freaked out as he packed up. Kate set her jaw and just nodded at them both. Kamala tried to keep a poker face as her heart pounded into her throat. She tucked her books away, took a picture of the notes on the board and joined her friends in the hall.

“There’s no way all three of us have a joint dentist's appointment, right,” Miles cracked.

They smiled weakly.

“Alright, they can’t have proof we did anything illegal, right,” Kate asked.

Kamala shook her head. “We always wore masks, left our phones at home and the jaguar is in an accredited nature reserve in the Sahara.”

“Think,” Miles urged them. “There’s gotta be something, and if we figure out what it is, we won’t get caught by surprise. No one took any selfies with civilians or anything, right?”

“Nope!”

“Uh, no. Nobody’s parents know, right,” Kamala asked.

Both of them shook their heads.

“Ok, well, whatever it is, we’re about to find out.”

They stood in front of the doors to the administrative wing, none of them wanting to go in first.

“I haven’t felt this nervous in front of the principal’s office since I climbed out the window in first grade,” Kate announced. 

“What were you even thinking,” Miles asked. “They would’ve just gone to the parking lot to catch you. I would’ve gone for the vents.”

Kamala felt a burst of courage and yanked the door open. She turned back to her friends. “No matter what, we’re in this together.”

Miles nodded. “We’ll be alright.”

Principal Morita was waiting behind his desk, his face carefully neutral, like it was whenever someone was about to get it for screwing around with the school computers. There was a goon on either side of him, each of them dripping in body armor. He waited a moment for the three of them to shuffle in before speaking.

“I’m calling your parents and multiple law firms as soon as our friends here are gone. This is a disgrace, a violation of your rights and—” 

He paused, collecting himself.

“I’m so, so sorry. You know what the Super Human Registration Act is, right?”

The three of them nodded.

“They say they have footage of the three of you during the incident on the field trip.”

-0-

Nat got up and stretched, going through the routine of contortions to maintain optimum functionality. Her muscles burned pleasantly afterwards, and she took a moment to bliss out.

“Could you grab me a coke from the fridge,” Pepper asked.

“Sure.” She trudged over to the kitchen, and retrieved the proffered beverage. “Twenty more minutes till the car comes.”

“How far away is the base?”

“I can’t give you that information.”

“Freaking superspy.”

Nat handed Pepper her drink and watched her take a massive chug.

“Ohhh, that hits the spot.” She paused, getting serious. “Why are you helping me? I know you were assigned to keep an eye on me, but now that the world’s gone to hell, I doubt I’m your superior’s first priority.”

Nat wasn’t sure what Pepper wanted to hear. Did she question Nat’s motives in looking out for her? 

“I don’t understand the question.”

“Why are you helping me? I’m hardly going to be useful in a fight, I’m a drain on precious few resources, I’m not a spy and it's not like I even know what I’m doing here!”

“As opposed to?”

“I dunno, running without me, leaving me to go stay with my mother, hell, dropping my unconscious body off on a train to Delaware!” Pepper looked agitated, gesturing animatedly.

“You’d get found immediately.”

“Well, maybe, but why do you care? I’m pretty much dead weight here. Kamala would probably be more helpful.”

“Yes, she would, but she isn’t being hunted down. Why would I go on the run with her? That’d be very disruptive to her lifestyle. Teenagers need stability.”

“GAH!” Pepper slammed her fist down on the table. “Why do you care about what happens to me?!”

“I don’t understand the--”

“Right, you just can’t comprehend why someone would be so selfish as to leave behind—”

Oh. 

Oh.

“Pepper H. Potts, I know more about the cruelty of the world than I hope you ever will. But I can help you! I get to help you! I can afford to be kind!”

Pepper glared at her. “For someone who insists they aren’t human, you’re way more empathetic than most people.”

Nat sputtered. “It’s just— common sense. You’re a person. Why shouldn’t I try to save you?”

“For someone so smart, you are incredibly dumb.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You go on and on about how you’re an emotionless killing machine who feels and thinks nothing, and yet you save my life, make me bacon and get me my favorite soda from the store because you’re a big, fat softie!”

Nat was horrified.


	2. Chapter 2

Erik watched the workers clustering around the broken mower through the window across from his bed, scratching their heads and calling their superiors. Smoke rose from the engine. A tad dramatic, but the horrible machine no longer interrupted his nap. He settled in, folding his arms over his chest. 

His door creaked open, and his nurse entered, beaming and holding a tray of lunch. Oddly enough, the soup smelled incredible. 

“You’re early. By…” he checked his watch. “Two hours.”

The kid frowned. “It’s twelve o’clock.”

“You’ve never served me lunch before two fifteen, no matter how much I grumble.”

Donny frowned. “I figured you might like it early today?”

Erik shook his head and sighed.

“Did you make that yourself?”

Donny nodded, looking proud. “I tried a new recipe. Bon appetite!”

“Alright. That’s enough. Nice try, Blue’s Clues. What’d you do with my nurse?”

Not-Donny cocked his head to one side. “What?”

Erik sat up. A bread knife from the tray hovered and turned midair to point the blade at Not-Donny.

“Where’s. My. Nurse.”

Mystique rolled her eyes and shifted back. “Damn it. I owe Kitty twenty bucks. Scott’s distracting the dude. He’s fine.”

“He’d better be. Why are you here?”

“Your husband needs your help and the front office wasn’t letting anyone see you.”

“If my husband needs my help, he can ask for it at dinner tonight. The staff at this establishment know to keep meddling kids from disturbing my retirement.”

“Professor Xavier was arrested this morning. He wouldn’t turn in an unregistered teenager and things got ugly. We need you.”

“They what—?! The government promised they’d leave the school alone!”

“They broke that promise. A street level kid vigilante was laying low with us after his friends were taken, and they tracked him back to the manor.”

“Stupid, stupid government.” The knife flew into his hand. He gestured angrily. “I’m fucking retired. I’m seventy-something years old. Why won’t this shitty world give me a goddamn break?!” He grabbed his boots out from under his bed. “Let’s blow this pop stand.”

“This is a nursing home. Are they just going to let you leave?”

“We ain’t going out the front door.” Erik laced up his shoes and waved a hand at the window. It swung open.

“Ladies first.”

Miles kept his eyes on the floor, counting links connected to the power-dampening cuffs until the panic became background noise and he could hear his own thoughts again.

There were four goons in the prison truck, each covered in so much armor and padding that he couldn’t see their eyes and armed with some sort of energy gun that glowed yellow, and lit up the interior better than the weak fluorescent in an iron cage did. There were no windows, and the three of them were shoved together so tightly on a bench in the back that he had to bring his shoulders up to his ears to keep Kamala from being squished against the hexagon paneled wall. Kate was currently staring down the thugs while he tried to keep it together. 

She put an arm on his shoulder, yanking her chain up to do so. Her cuffs were almost completely pointless since she didn’t have powers, but he supposed it was the principle of the thing. 

“Miles, it’s gonna be fine. Our parents and the lawyers are gonna figure this out.” She grabbed his hand in hers. Kamala did the same on the other side. 

He grinned at her shakily. “We’ve taken down aliens, smugglers, a confused big cat and the literal Santa Claus. What’s one little government agency to us?”

Kamala squared her jaw. “Yeah. We’re the Young Avengers. Friendly neighborhood extralegal super secret book club.”

The truck shook, nearly throwing them to the floor, before careening to the left and coming to a stop. The goons stood up and pointed their guns at them, the blasters glowing brighter and whirring as they powered up. 

Kate clutched his hand harder and yelled “It’s not us! We aren’t doing this!” Kamala tried to stretch out and shield them before remembering the power dampeners. Miles put his hands up, and yanked his friends arms up with him. 

One of the soldiers brought a glove to his ear listening to a comm, before barking orders to his underlings and they all climbed up front through the hatch, shutting it behind them, leaving their prisoners alone. 

“Any clue what’s going on,” Kamala asked. 

“Nope,” they chorused. Miles squeezed their hands.

There was a sound of gunfire and something that sounded awfully like a body hit the side of the truck. The hatch started unlocking clumsily and the three of them fought to get between the others and whoever was trying to get in.

They froze as the light of day shined in and someone outside swore up a storm. A woman wearing a beanie and thick eyeliner poked her head in. She looked vaguely familiar, and Miles wracked his brain as to where he might have seen her before. She disappeared before yelling to a companion out of sight, “There are three kids in here! Since when are they arresting kids?!”

Miles rolled his eyes. “I’m Spider-Man, that’s Hawkeye to my left and Ms. Marvel to my right.”

She popped back in, frowning. “Do you usually just give out your secret identities to strangers?”

Kate facepalmed.

“Uh, no. But I’ve kind of had a bad day. Please tell me you’re here to rescue us.”

The woman smirked. “Yeah. We were kind of hoping you’d be a friend of ours though.”

“We? Who are you guys,” Kate asked.

“I’m Quake. I got some buddies outside, you’ll meet them when we get your butts out of there.”

Quake hopped into the carriage, allowing them to see the gauntlets featured in her merch. 

“Omigosh,” Kamala squealed. “Quake is rescuing us!”

“Yep.” Quake pulled a keychain off her belt and held a fob on top of a port in Kamala’s cuffs before slowly rotating it. They clicked open. She rubbed her wrists as she pulled them out, beaming at her rescuer. “How long after Terrigenesis did it take you to get your powers under control? Cuz it took me almost a week, and I had to make up a ton of stuff to explain why I kept breaking furniture!”

Quake shrugged. “A few months before I was stable. The gauntlets helped.” She finished unlocking Miles and then Kate. “It wasn’t fun. My mom, also an Inhuman, taught me a lot of stuff, but then my dad had to kill her because she attempted to drain the life out of me and take over the world. Then I erased Dad’s memories, so he has no idea who I am, and I’m currently on the run from every alphabet agency on the planet.” 

Miles cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. My uncle turned out to be the Prowler and then died in my arms.”

“I was attacked by Kang the Conqueror in Central Park and was left with debilitating PTSD.”

There was an awkward silence. 

“So, where are we going,” Kamala asked.

“SHIELD base three hours from here. C’mon out, I’ll introduce you to my teammates and we’ll hit the road.”

Kate climbed out first, then Miles, then Kamala. All four goons were bound together next to the truck, which had skidded off the highway and into a field. There was a dilapidated minivan a couple yards away, where two grumpy looking men in identical leather jackets, a dark haired woman in a hoodie and jeans, a businessman holding a white cane and an absolutely shredded dude holding a thick novel waited, looking bored.

“From left to right, that’s Frank, Robbie, Jessica, Matt and Luke,” Quake announced.

“Hey. I’m Kate, this is Miles and that’s Kamala.”

Frank sized them up. “Alright. Do you have your phones?”

“Nah, our principal has them.”

“Good. You’ll fit in the back. Don’t touch anything.” He got in the driver's seat and started the engine. Quake took shotgun. The three of them climbed into the third row of seats and buckled up. Robbie, Jessica, Matt and Luke got in after them.

Frank adjusted the rear view mirror. “Hey Jack o’ Lantern, put your seatbelt on.”

Robbie stuck up his middle finger up.

“I said, put your fucking seatbelt on. We got kids in the car.”

Miles snickered.

Robbie put his seatbelt on.

Erik walked ahead of Mystique, guiding them through the woods behind the nursing home and into a clearing.

At the center was a stump about the height of her hips, which he stalked towards and kicked. 

The “stump” opened from the top, revealing a storage bin with his suit in it. He grinned fondly, slung it over his shoulder and donned his helmet.

“Alright. Where’s the car to the Mansion?”

Mystique winked. “Not a car.”

He scoffed. “Well I ain’t hiking upstate.”

“You don’t have to. KURT,” she called. 

Nightcrawler appeared next to her, glaring. “I still think this is a bad idea,” he muttered. Erik pretended not to hear. Kurt grabbed his and Mystique’s wrists and teleported them almost eighty miles to the Mansion.

They resurfaced in the dining room, where almost one hundred solemn faced people waited. Kurt took a moment to wheeze and slump down into a chair Kitty put out for him. 

“Never again,” he gasped.

Erik turned to address the students, some of whom gazed at him with tentative hope, others with open fear and animosity.

“Friends, mutants, countrymen. Shits fucked up. The government thinks they can just take my husband and get away with it. They can just take away anyone who disrupts their orderly little society to try and make their community a better place. I’ve seen this before. I’ve fought it before. This shall not stand. I think that you guys are a bunch of namby-pamby idealists. You think that I’m a power hungry vicious psycho. Well, it doesn’t matter because we have a common enemy, the state. Let’s burn shit down!”

He swept out, his cape slapping Kitty in the face.

Kurt shook his head. “This is such a bad idea.”

“Well, it’s the only one we’ve got. We need allies, Enhanced people all over the world need allies and for a geezer, he packs a punch.”

“Missy, that’s what I’m worried about.”

“Call me that again and I swear—”

“Oh, I heard Logan calling.” Kurt disappeared.

“God. Wolfie’s in DC,” she hissed to thin air.

Quake bickered incessantly with Frank over the radio, who Kate thought might be Frank Castle, aka the freaking Punisher, but finally they settled on an oldies station that Matt said didn’t mess with his echolocation. Kate wasn’t sure if he was joking. 

Believe it or not, Quake had a set of pipes on her, and was easily the most talented at singalongs. Kamala was the most enthusiastic, while Matt, Jessica and Luke chorused in a deadpan. Kate didn’t exactly trust anyone not in the back seat, but Barbara Ann was a catchy song, and even Frank was tapping his fingers on the steering wheel.

The highway didn’t stretch out like a ribbon in the desert. It mostly just looked like a road. Jessica lay with her head on Luke’s lap and her legs across Matt’s, typing rapidly into a burner phone. Kate wasn’t sure how she could write while singing. That was probably her mutation slash ability. 

The music faded to static and a robotic voice started listing off a string of numbers. Daisy reacted explosively, pulling out a tiny notebook and pen, frantically jotting them down. Frank hit the brakes, while Jessica almost rolled onto the floor.

“Are those coordinates,” Miles asked. 

Everyone else shushed him.

The numerals ended, while the music resumed, but no one was singing anymore.

“What was that,” Kamala inquired, a nervous lilt to her voice. 

“Activation codes for Wolf Spiders and Black Widows who were wiped and planted into the civilian population. They’re spies who don’t know they’re spies,” Frank growled.

“So they’re waking up sleeper agents. What if they’re with friends or family on the road,” Robbie practically yelled.

“I dunno, Casper. Would you mind lowering your fucking voice?”

Kate decided to step in and calm things down. “Why are the two of you wearing the same leather jacket?”

Daisy laughed. “Because they’re both basic bitches who shop at the same Big and Broody.”

“I’m starting to regret saving your life.”

“You did not save my life, Moaning Myrtle. You just pussied out of killing me.”

“Laugh it up with the nicknames, but they won’t be all that funny when the Other Guy comes out.”

“Who’s the Other Guy,” Miles asked. “Are you the Hulk?”

“Nope. Sorry.”

“Oh.”

“I’m possessed by the literal devil to enact vengeance on the truly evil in this world.”

Miles paused, then rolled with it. “I’ve got a few math teachers back at Midtown Tech I should introduce you to.”

Jessica pulled herself up from the van floor. “What is it with you do-gooder vigilante types and constant quips?”

Miles, Kamala, Kate, Daisy and Luke responded at the same time with some variant on humor as a coping mechanism.

“Curtis would have a field day with you people,” Frank muttered. 

“How much farther is the base,” Miles asked.

Daisy looked at her maps, and then at her watch. “Half hour. Does anyone have to use the bathroom?”

There were four yeses from Luke, Kate, Matt, Frank and Jessica.

“You’ll have to wait. We can’t stop because not only is nothing going to be open after the bombings, being out in the open like this is asking for trouble. Sorry.”

Frank swatted Daisy behind the head.

The Winter Soldier had an unconscious and drenched Steve thrown over one shoulder when he shoved Sam against a van and held a knife to his throat.

“You will come quietly,” he hissed.

“Man, you threw me off a helicarrier, ripped one of my wings off with your bare hands, pulled my steering wheel out through my windshield and you still think you need to intimidate me?”

The Soldier took a step back, keeping the blade pointed dangerously at him.

“Turn around and place your hands flat on the side.” His voice was flat, with a faint Slavic accent.

Sam turned slowly, trying to look as non threatening as possible as he kept his hands above his head and faced the car. The Soldier patted him down roughly, then cupped his jaw and shined a flashlight into his mouth. Finally satisfied, he opened the van door, beckoned Sam in, then laid Steve down on his back across the seats carefully, checking his pulse and buckling him in. He zip-tied Sam’s wrist to the door handle and tossed him a first aid kit from the glove box.

“Patch him up. If he dies--”

“Yeah, yeah, you’ll kill me. Have you considered that maybe I don’t want my friend dead either?”

The Soldier glared at him before slamming the door and getting in the front seat. He started the engine and pulled away from the river bank. 

Steve had a broken jaw, which Sam immobilized with the sleeve torn off his stealth suit. He counted four cracked ribs and a hairline fracture on his cheekbone. There was a slice on his chest that he cleaned and stitched up one-handed, and a sprained wrist he couldn’t do much about. 

“What happened to him,” he asked incredulously. “Did you hit him with a truck?”

Barnes’s knuckles whitened against the wheel. 

“Where are we going? We need to regroup, find our allies.”

“Carter is either dead or captured. Fury’s in the wind. Hill is untrustworthy.”

“What’s up with Hill? Is she Hydra?”

“Negative. But she displays authoritarian thought and is likely to side with government forces.”

“What’s the plan? What are we driving to?”

“Safe house. It's where my resources and backup are.”

“You have backup?”

Barnes didn’t respond. 

Steve cracked his eyes open and tried to sit up.

“Whoa there.” Sam put his hands on his shoulders and guided him back down. “How’re we doing?”

Steve blinked a few times. “Where’s Bucky? He pulled me out of the river.”

“He’s in the front seat, driving.”

“Hey Steve.”

“Buck!”

“Yeah, it’s me. We’re going upstate to New York. You always did want to go camping.”

“Did enough of that in the war.”

Barnes grinned in the rear view mirror. “How’s your skull doing? You crashed it real hard into my metal fuckin arm.”

“I have a concussion.”

“Yeah, that sounds about right.” Barnes’s voice had completely switched to old school Brooklyn. Sam wondered if that meant he was back to normal.

“Hey, uh, Bucky, I seem to have accidentally zip tied my arm to the door handle. Do you have something to get it loose?”

Barnes stared daggers as he reluctantly handed over a pair of shears.

“Thanks man. I don’t know how I could’ve been so clumsy.”

Steve was looking at him like he knew he was full of shit, but Barnes had a vein popping out of his forehead, which made it all worth it.

Steve cleared his throat. “Can we put on some music?”


End file.
